


Break, Break, Break

by flibbertygigget



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Poetry, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 02:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: “This isn’t about being a coward, this is about staying alive to fight another day,” Snape said with a sneer. “Don’t be the light brigade, Potter."A story about war, poetry, and character development.





	Break, Break, Break

Staring at the bodies he and Sirius had created and the Muggle family they’d saved, James Potter had to admit that he was baffled. The Muggle man was trembling, blocking the three Muggle children with his body. He seemed absolutely terrified of them, as opposed to the guys with evil masks who had been trying to kill him.

“P-Please,” he said. “Please don’t kill them.”

“We’re not going to kill you,” James said, trying to sound gentle.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “We’re not the killers.”

“ _He_ said not to trust any of them,” the Muggle man said. “He said – He said he’d be back, once he convinced them to leave.” James and Sirius glanced at each other.

“Who was he?” James asked.

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything, I swear!”

“Just tell us what he looked like, at least!” Sirius snapped, growing impatient.

“He – He was young, a bit shorter than me. He had one of those masks – long hair-“

“ _Obliviate_ ,” James said. The Muggle’s eyes became unfocused. Three spells and a Floo call later, James and Sirius were able to Apparate back to Headquarters.

“Well? How did it go?” Peter said eagerly.

“We got three of the bastards,” Sirius said. “Two of them got away, unfortunately. We called the Ministry to deal with the bodies.”

“Awesome!” Peter said. “That’ll show them!”

“It was weird, though,” Sirius said. “The Muggles were warned to hide beforehand. One of them said it was a Death Eater who warned them.”

“That can’t be true,” Peter said. “The stupid Muggle must’ve been mistaken or something.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. James frowned in thought.

“I hope that he was mistaken,” he said. Sirius looked at him curiously. “If he wasn’t, we might’ve killed the guy who saved those Muggles,” James explained.

“Who cares?” Peter said.

“We all should, dumbass. We would’ve been too late to save anyone if it hadn’t been for that Death Eater, whoever he is. Or was.”

“Again, who cares?” Sirius said. “Whoever warned that Muggle, he’s the one who joined the Death Eaters. He’s a genocidal blood purist. He got what was coming to him.” James half wanted to argue, but he held his tongue. Sirius was right, of course he was right. Why would anyone who was half-way decent join the Death Eaters?

The only problem was, since that was the case, why the hell would a Death Eater save a bunch of Muggles?

* * *

“Lily, can I ask you something?” James said. Lily looked up from Harry, who she had just gotten settled with a bottle. Every time he looked at his three-week-old son, James pretty much exploded with happiness and pride.

“You just did, dummy,” she said fondly, but then she turned suddenly serious. “Is this about what happened the other day?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that you’ve been… off, you know. Did something happen? Were you – Were you too late to-“

“No, no, the only people killed were Death Eaters.” James sighed. “It’s just – It was weird, okay?”

“How was it weird?”

“It was just – One of the Death Eaters told the Muggles to hide. I don’t know who it was. We killed three of the five, so he’s probably dead, but-“ James ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t know. I don’t know why a Death Eater would do something like that.”

“James…” Lily seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking at the baby sleeping in her arms instead of at James. “Death Eaters are human beings too.”

“Lily, they’re evil! They’d kill you if they could!”

“I know that!” Lily said. “I didn’t mean – What I meant was that – Look, who knows what was going through that Death Eater’s head. Maybe he had a kid the same age as one of those Muggles. Maybe it was his first mission, and he hadn’t realized what he was getting into. Maybe, well, maybe he hadn’t seen anywhere else to go, and now he’s stuck. You know what You-Know-Who expects from his Death Eaters and what he does to any who waver.”

“Lils, none of those assholes were showing any mercy. Sirius and I were having Dark curses thrown at us right and left!” He narrowed his eyes. “Why’re you so comfortable with acting like those Death Eaters have anything close to a conscience?”

“Because, objectively speaking, you have evidence that at least one of them _does_?” Lily snapped. “Look, one good act doesn’t – doesn’t absolve him or anything, but it does show something. Even you can’t say that saving four lives, three of them children, is somehow evil just because it’s done by your enemy.”

“Even me? What do you mean even me?” Lily pursed her lips. “This is about Sniv, isn’t it?”

“Don’t call him that!”

“Seriously, you still give a shit about that guy? He called you a – you know what he called you! He was a little bigot, and with friends like his he probably became a Death Eater the moment he could.”

“I know, James!” Lily took a deep breath, trying to regain her calm. “I know. It’s stupid but… he was my best friend since we were nine. Even though he made his choices, I still can’t help but hope that he got out somehow.”

“I still don’t get what you saw in Snivellus,” James said. “I mean, he was – he was Snivellus! He’s this dirty little Dark Arts-obsessed Slytherin creep!” Lily stood abruptly.

“You saw what you wanted to see,” she hissed. “Anything to justify your stupid pranks. And that’s the reason why you can’t see that maybe, just maybe, some people aren’t as bloody shallow as you and your gang of glory hounds.” She stormed out of the room. James stared after her, stunned. He hadn’t realized that Lily still gave a shit about Sniv after what the Slytherin had done. He certainly wouldn’t have.

Then again, he wouldn’t have ever been friends with someone a seeped in the Dark Arts as Snivellus. He would have dropped them before they got to that point and known that he was right.

* * *

James was early for the next Order meeting.

It wasn’t an accident. He wanted to be the one to tell Dumbledore about the mysterious Death Eater, and he wanted to talk to him without Sirius or Peter around. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that maybe, just maybe, they had someone in Voldemort’s camp who was potentially an ally. Dumbledore was always going on about alliances and espionage. James had never considered either of those things all that important, but if he could give Dumbledore something valuable he would.

“… certain that he’s truly on our side, Albus?” James stopped outside the half-open door. That was McGonagall’s voice, and she sounded more anxious than he had heard her before.

“He’s given me every reason to trust him, Minerva, of that I can assure you.” That was Dumbledore. James dithered for a moment, wondering whether to barge into their conversation or wait until they were done. “We need the intelligence that he can provide.”

“Still… You remember what he was like in school…”

“I believe that I remember better than you do, my dear.”

“Albus-“

“We can discuss this farther later,” Dumbledore said firmly. “The rest of the Order will be arriving soon. I trust that the identity – no, the _existence_ of our newest member will be kept between the two of us.” There was a short pause.

“Of course, Albus,” McGonagall said, “so long as I reserve the right to say I-told-you-so if he proves to be untrustworthy.”

James slunk back. He felt a little guilty for sneaking around, listening at doors, but there were more important things to consider. For one thing, he had a feeling that he knew what was going on with the mysteriously decent Death Eater.

James and Sirius had, completely on accident, stumbled on Dumbledore’s spy in You-Know-Who’s ranks. James smiled to himself, the conspiratorial smile of another Marauder-style prank. He’d do as Dumbledore had asked and keep this to himself, but he _would_ be trying to figure out who the spy was. He was too curious not to.

* * *

“You wanted to see us?” James said. Lily was standing beside him, holding Harry and looking worried.

“Please, sit,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sorry for calling you here, but I just received urgent information that you two should know.” James and Lily sat. “Do you remember what I told you shortly after Harry was born?”

“The prophecy,” Lily said. “Of course we remember. Has You-Know-Who-“

“The protections we put in place have held,” Dumbledore said reassuringly. “But I have troubling news. There is evidence that someone close to you has been passing intelligence to Voldemort.”

“What?” James said. “What do you mean?” Dumbledore sighed.

“I mean that Voldemort has been informed of some of your wards.” Lily gasped, and James squeezed her hand comfortingly. “He doesn’t know your precise location, but it is only a matter of time. If you wish to ensure your safety, and that of your son, greater protections will have to be put in place.”

“What are you thinking of?” James said. Dumbledore stroked his beard.

“The Fidelus Charm,” he said. “It is practically impenetrable so long as your Secret Keeper is trustworthy. It will make it so that your location will be kept secure, even with the spy passing information to Voldemort.”

“Alright,” James said. “Okay, we’ll do that.”

“I am willing to be your Secret Keeper, if you wish,” Dumbledore said. James and Lily glanced at each other.

“Professor, we’d like to discuss this before making any decisions,” Lily said. Dumbledore nodded, looking troubled.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s only wise in times such as these.”

* * *

James was one of the first through the Floo when he heard about the Longbottoms being attacked.

“Where are they?” he said, looking around the sitting room. Molly Weasley and Hestia Jones were there, comforting a – James’ stomach took a dive for the floor – distraught Alice Longbottom. “Alice – Are Frank and Neville...?”

“They’re safe,” Molly cut in. “They’re safe, thank heavens. Frank was working late, and Alice managed to escape with Neville.”

“Sweet Merlin,” James said, collapsing into a chair. “How the hell did they get through the wards?”

“Someone must have told You-Know-Who where they were located,” Hestia said grimly. “All but the most powerful wards are weakened if you know the location.” Alice let out a soft sob, fists clenching so tight in her lap that it looked like her knuckles would burst through the skin.

“But who did she tell?”

“No one,” Alice moaned. “We’ve told no one outside of the Order.” James swore under his breath.

“It must be the spy,” he muttered. Alice nodded, still choking back soft cries.

“We knew – We knew, of course, there was someone, but we only told those necessary. I can’t imagine-“

“We’ll just have to make a list,” James said. “A list of – of all the people you let know your location. One of them has _got_ to be the one spying for You-Know-Who.”

“We weren’t under the Fidelus,” Alice said. “Any of them could’ve – could’ve told anyone, given us away. We’re no closer to-“

“We’ll figure it out,” James insisted. “Come on, you’ve had a long day. Where’s Neville?”

“He’s in the next room,” Molly said. “Poor dear’s sleeping.”

“Alright. Why don’t you just go lie down in there? We can start getting a list of potential spies together in the morning.”

“We could’ve died,” Alice said. “We would’ve, if he hadn’t…” She trailed off.

“If who hadn’t what?” James said.

“There was a wizard,” she whispered. “A – A Death Eater. I don’t know how, but he-“

“What?” James said impatiently. Alice’s clenched hands opened to reveal a large, black button.

“They had us cornered. Neville… they wanted to kill Neville. But they wanted to t-torture us first. He – The Death Eater – He was just a boy, really. He couldn’t have been older than you, James.” She was staring at the button in her hands as though it was the Holy Grail. “He slipped it to me. I – It was a makeshift Portkey. It shouldn’t have worked, not – not – but it did. He saved us.”

“It was the spy.” Molly, Hestia, and Alice looked confused, and James grinned triumphantly. “Dumbledore has a spy on the inside. I overheard him talking to McGonagall about him. About a year ago, Sirius and I intercepted some Death Eaters and found out that one of them had saved the family of Muggles they were supposed to be raiding. It has to have been the same guy.” James’ grin faded. “You can’t tell anyone, though. Dumbledore wanted to keep the spy’s existence a secret from the Order.”

“But why?” Molly said. “If we knew who it was, we could-“

“That’s just it,” Hestia said grimly. “We couldn’t. We couldn’t – We _can’t_ do anything about it, or else the Death Eaters might know that they have a spy in their ranks. The spy will be tortured and killed, and there goes our source of information and who knows how many Order secrets.”

“Exactly,” James said, glad that Hestia had stepped in. She was better at telling harsh truths than he ever would be. “We can’t risk it. Acting like the spy doesn’t exist is the best thing we can do for him.” Alice looked up from the button. Though her face was still pale and tear-streaked, she was wearing an expression of pure determination.

“If you find out who the Order’s spy is, tell me,” she said harshly. “With where he is, what he’s doing – He saved my son’s life. He deserves a way out. I can make him an emergency Portkey, just like he did for me.” James pursed his lips, but he didn’t argue with her. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t ready to be told that her idea wasn’t workable.

“An emergency Portkey,” he said instead, thoughtfully. “You know, with You-Know-Who after Lily and Harry and me, that might not be such a bad idea.”

* * *

The Patronus came in the middle of their dinner. Huge and amorphous, it hovered over the table, speaking in a voice that was so obviously disguised that James knew who it had to belong to.

“Your Secret Keeper squealed,” the spy’s Patronus said in a voice that it was obviously trying to keep low. “I – He’s going to you. Get out now. I don’t know how long you have.” The Patronus disappeared and, for a moment, no one at the table breathed.

“Back!” Harry said, reaching for where the Patronus had been the moment before. That was enough to shake both James and Lily out of their shock.

“What the fuck did Peter do?” James growled.

“Not now, James,” Lily said. “Where did you put the Portkey?”

“Mantle,” James said. He scooped up his wand and stood in the entrance to the hallway, pointing it at the door with a curse on his lips.  “It’s that ugly looking pug that your sister sent us.”

“Petunia will be thrilled,” Lily said. She took the pug ornament and scooped up Harry.

“Should we grab anything else?” James said. Lily hesitated for a moment before shaking her head.

“It’ll keep,” she said. “That, or the Death Eaters will burn the place down, and I don’t intend to be here if that happens.”

“Right,” James said. He took Lily’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “ _Portus!_ ” They whirled away, flung through the air and into the sitting room of the Headquarters. The few Order members scattered around jumped to their feet, but James was more concerned with Harry, who had started crying.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” Lily said, bouncing Harry and trying to comfort him. She looked up when Dumbledore approached them.

“Lily, James,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“Peter betrayed us,” James said. “I – We wouldn’t have gotten out in time if we hadn’t been warned by a Patronus.”

“A Patronus?” Sirius said, sounding skeptical. “What was its form?”

“It didn’t have one,” James said. “But it – it warned us about You-Know-Who coming.”

“It could’ve been lying,” Sirius said.

“Why would someone bother sending a Patronus just to lie to us?” Lily said. “Besides, it wasn’t as though we could take the risk.”

“You could’ve fought.”

“He’s after Harry,” Lily said firmly. “We’re not risking him, not for anything. I’m just glad that whoever it was had the ability to send it on time.”

“As am I,” Dumbledore said gravely, “though I fear that there may still be consequences for what happened here tonight.”

“Sir, do you know who it was?” James said. Dumbledore hesitated. “I think we have the right to know.” Dumbledore sighed.

“If there ever comes a time when it is safe to reveal his identity, I will tell you both,” he said. James wanted to argue, but he held his tongue. Dumbledore wouldn’t change his mind, and James knew that the spy’s identity was being kept secret for a reason. He may not like it, but he could deal with it a while longer.

* * *

By January they had been taken to a new location, the Fidelus Charm performed with Dumbledore himself as Secret Keeper. James often thought, bile burning the back of his throat, of how things could have gone on Halloween. If the spy hadn’t been able to get the warning out the them, if they hadn’t had the emergency Portkey…

And it was James’ fault. Partly Sirius’, mostly Peter’s, but James could carry his share of blame. Lily had expressed doubts about their little trick with the Secret Keeper, saying that they should take up Dumbledore’s offer as long as it was on the table. It had been arrogance, plain and simple, to think that the Marauders’ pranks could fool You-Know-Who. Lily and Harry could have – no, they certainly _would_ have died. It made James more determined than ever to find out who the damn spy was, if only so that he could thank him.

A little less than a week after they moved into their new location, he found Lily sitting at the table, a quill and parchment in her hand. She was writing slowly, biting her lip as though a single wrong letter could set off a hex. James paused, confused.

“What’re you writing?” he asked. Lily jumped.

“Nothing!” she said quickly. He raised an eyebrow. “It’s none of your business anyways.”

“It was just a question!” James protested. Lily glared, but then she softened a little, letting out a small sigh.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just… I’ve been all out of sorts. Ever since Halloween-“ She cut herself off angrily.

“We’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Is it? James,” she took a deep breath, “I’m writing to Sev.”

“What? Why would you _want_ to write that greasy git?”

“Maybe because his birthday’s coming up in a few days, and I was the only one who ever gave a shit? Maybe because I knew him for ages and miss him? Maybe because,” her voice dropped low, “maybe because we _know_ there’s a spy, and I think I know who it is.”

“You think it’s _Snivellus_?”

“Don’t call him that!”

“Lils, he wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire!”

“Did you ever give him a reason to? You and your stupid friends were _vile_ to him, James. I – I wasn’t even that surprised when Peter turned on us. You bullied Sev because you thought it made people respect you, Sirius bullied him because he was bored, but Peter – Peter seemed to _like_ it.”

“It was just a laugh, that’s all.”

“That’s what Sev said about the things Mulciber and Avery got up to. I told him it was Dark Magic, and it – it was, but at least _they_ never stripped their victims in front of a crowd. I heard Peter threatening Sev outside of Defense once, after – after that. He was so awful, I almost jumped in and defended Sev right there, even though he would’ve probably just called me _that_ word again. I still wish I had.”

“Aw, come on, what Peter said couldn’t’ve been that bad.”

“He told Sev that, after seeing his – um – his backside, he wanted to find out…” Lily bit her bottom lip.

“Find out what?”

“F-Find out how big a – a stick he could ram up Sev’s tight little ass.” At James’ disbelieving look, Lily’s voice began to raise. “Those were his exact words, James. I couldn’t forget them if I tried. Sev went for his wand, of course, who wouldn’t, but that’s when Professor McGonagall came down the hallway. He lost Slytherin 10 points for that, even though anyone could see that Peter was crowding him against the wall and-“ She broke off. “Anyways, I saw how Peter was looking at Sev. He was getting off it, I think, feeling powerful, feeling like he could force Sev to do anything.”

“It would’ve never happened,” James insisted. “We – We weren’t like that, Lils. You know that.”

“Maybe you weren’t,” she said. “But Peter was, and now he’s on You-Know-Who’s side. Don’t you think it might be possible that you were wrong about Sev, too?” He wanted to yell. He wanted to snatch away the letter and throw it in the fire. But he couldn’t, because, quite frankly, Lily was right. He’d fucked up, trusting Peter the way he had. Maybe he couldn’t trust his instincts anymore.

“Fine,” he ground out. “Fine, send him the damn thing. But be careful, Lily. I don’t trust Sni – Snape, and I don’t want him tricking you into doing something stupid.”

“I’m not as easy to fool as you,” Lily sniped, turning back to the letter.

A few days later, he found Lily at the table again, crying. A piece of parchment was clutched in her hand.

“Lily, what is it?” James said. She didn’t answer. She just handed him the parchment.

_Lily,_ (it read)

_Don’t contact me again. It’s safer for both of us._

_Severus_

Somehow, Snape’s reply, blunt and impolite though it was, made James feel better. If the bastard had wanted to trap Lily and hand them over to You-Know-Who, he wouldn’t have pushed her away. As long as Snape was concerned about Lily’s safety, he probably wasn’t a Death Eater.

* * *

It was a pretty routine Order mission. Get in, get as many Death Eaters as possible, and save whoever you could. James and Sirius were used to working as a team, but sweeping the old mansion for Death Eaters meant it was more practical to split up. That was the only reason why James was able to be cornered the way he was.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” James twisted around, trying to get a Shield Charm up, but he was too late. His wand was torn from his grasp, dropping gracefully into the hands of the Death Eater. James’ hands curled into fists. He was going to die, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give the Death Eater a good fight.

“Going to kill an unarmed man?” he said. “Oh, wait, I forgot. You came here to kill Muggles, you fucking coward.” The Death Eater didn’t say anything, just looked at James’ wand curiously. There was the sound of breaking glass somewhere downstairs, and the Death Eater twitched. James blinked. It couldn’t be… “Well, aren’t you going to kill me?”

“The Muggles are dead. I made sure it was as quick as I could.” Even muffled by the mask, there was no mistaking that voice.

“Snape?” The Death Eater nodded. “What the fuck? You broke Lily’s heart with that letter back in January!”

“You’re worried about the letter?” Snape sounded baffled.

“If you wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t have bothered with the Disarming Spell.” James paused, wondering whether he should say his conclusions out loud, but he wanted to know for certain. “You’re the spy, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, Potter.”

“You saved that Muggle family back in ’80, the father and three kids. You saved Alice and Neville Longbottom. You were the one that sent that noncorporal Patronus on Halloween. Who knows how many others you-”

“Shut _up_ ,” Snape hissed.  “There are still Death Eaters here. You need to get out now.”

“Get out? What do you mean? We need to take out as many of you as possible.”

“And when you fail? You and Black are outnumbered three to one, and there isn’t anyone left to save.”

“I’m not a coward!”

“This isn’t about being a coward, this is about staying alive to fight another day. Don’t be the light brigade, Potter.”

“Light brigade?” Snape shifted uncomfortably.

“’Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.’ It’s Tennyson. You and Black are going to get yourselves killed going up against us.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?” The emotionless Death Eater mask tilted.

“You lose. So what was the point?”

“At least we can take some of the assholes down with us.”

“Can’t do much for the war when you’re rotting in the ground. You’d best take my advice. Get out of here, get back to Lily. Pray that the Headmaster doesn’t blunder.” James lifted his chin.

“And what if I don’t?” he said. Snape shrugged.

“Then I guess I’ll have to do this. _Stupify!_ ”

By the time that Sirius woke him up, the Death Eaters were long gone. Sirius asked him a ton of questions, of course, but James didn’t answer most of them. He had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

Lily cried again, this time of happiness, when James told her about the conversation with Snape.

“I told you he was the spy!” she said. “God, no wonder he sounded so off. He’s probably worried about the Death Eaters monitoring his letters.”

“Yeah,” said James, but he couldn’t smile like Lily. He was too busy mulling over some of the weirder things Snape had said. “Lily, do you know what Snape meant when he told me not to be the light brigade?”

“It’s a Muggle poem. I remember one of the older kids reciting it for Remembrance Day when I was in primary school. ‘Half a league, half a league, half a league onward’ – I don’t remember the rest. It was a long time ago.”

“Snape – it sounded like he was quoting from it. ’Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.’ I think that’s what it was.”

“Oh, it’s a war poem. It was probably something about the folly of war, a generation dying out – you know, that kind of thing. You could ask Dumbledore. He knows Muggle literature and poetry up to a point.”

“Maybe I will,” James muttered. He didn’t know why, but Snape’s words had stuck with him. The fact that the Death Eater and spy was quoting Muggle poetry… well, it meant something. James just had to figure out what.

* * *

When he’d asked Dumbledore about the mysterious poem, Dumbledore had given him an odd look. At the next Order meeting, the older man had handed him a slim paperback volume, _War Poetry_.

“You will find what you seek in here, I think,” Dumbledore said.

Late that night, when Lily was trying to get Harry back to sleep, James took the book and flipped through it until he came to the right poem. He read it once, twice, but on the page the words seemed dead. His eyes caught on the second stanza, the one that Snape had quoted from. James began mouthing the words, then whispering them, trying to figure out what had made Snape’s quote stick with him.

_“Forward, the Light Brigade!”_  
_Was there a man dismayed?_  
 _Not though the soldier knew_  
 _Someone had blundered._

Snape had told him to hope that Dumbledore didn’t blunder. Was this what the spy had been referring to? He’d sounded like he thought that he and Sirius should run away against superior odds. Then again, Tennyson seemed to think that the Light Brigade should have been dismayed, and “blundered” was hardly a complimentary word.

_Theirs not to make reply,_  
_Theirs not to reason why,_  
 _Theirs but to do and die._

Their courage sounded… not stupid, really. James had to disagree with Snape about that. But it did sound helpless, like they should have argued but hadn’t because it wasn’t their place. Their place was to die.

_Into the valley of Death  
Rode the six hundred._

The valley of death. Was that what James and Sirius were facing every time they went to interrupt a Death Eater raid? It wasn’t like they could ever get there quickly enough to save the Muggles or Muggleborns that the Death Eaters were after. Normally they fought all they could until the Death Eaters fled or the Order members died.

Snape had saved those four Muggles, had probably saved more that James didn’t know about. Even on that last raid, he’d said that he’d made the Muggles’ deaths as quick as possible. Had James and Sirius ever been able to do even that much?

James slammed the book shut. He didn’t want to think about these kind of things, at least not this late at night. He didn’t want to consider whether their strategy was working. He had to trust Dumbledore. That was all he really knew how to do.

* * *

Seeing Snape at the apothecary wasn’t a surprise, but James would have expected to see him comparing different grades of mint or haggling over moonwort, not standing behind the counter counting back Knuts. James set his purchases on the counter.

“Snape,” he said. Snape didn’t even sneer, just went to work weighing the ingredients and jotting down numbers. “What’re you doing here?”

“Some of us have to work for a living, Potter,” he said. “Apprenticeships are hardly enough to live on.”

“I would’ve thought you’d get a sponsorship, you know, considering.”

“That could have many different meanings,” Snape said. “People might be listening.”

“Right.” James hesitated, but he’d never been known for being cautious. “Anywhere we can go where people _won’t_ be listening.” Snape glared a little, but he leaned forward.

“I’m off in half an hour,” he said. “I have a flat in Knockturn. It’s as secure as anywhere else these days.”

“Not very?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. That’ll be 5 Galleons, 3 Sickles.” James dropped six coins on the counter.

“I’m serious. How secure is secure?”

“It’s not bugged, by the Ministry or by anyone else.” James blinked as he swept his change into his wallet.

“The Ministry? Why would the Ministry-“

“Shh! I’ll tell you later. Now get out of here!” James rolled his eyes, but he left. He loitered outside for a while, until Snape left the shop. The Slytherin nodded at him, and James fell into step behind him. He was bursting with questions, but he got it, really he did. Nowhere was safe from the Death Eaters, not even Diagon Alley.

Snape led him up three flights of rickety stairs to an attic room. The roof sloped so low that James could only stand upright by pressing his back against the inside wall. Snape dropped onto the bed, throwing his boots into the far corner of the room.

“Well?” Snape said. “What does the Headmaster want with me, Potter?” James hesitated. Now that he was in Snape’s flat, he was just realizing that he had no idea what he had meant to say to him.

“Why would _you_ know Muggle poetry?” he burst out. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you care?” he said.

“It’s just – I mean, it’s not what you’d expect, you know. From a Slytherin.”

“From a pureblood, you mean. Which you are, and I am not.”

“Wait, you’re not a pureblood?” Snape’s eyebrow drove higher, and James could feel his face growing hot. “It’s just – I assumed-“

“You assumed that, as a Slytherin, I had to adhere to certain political ideologies. Never mind that you have an example of a Slytherin – and a pureblood Slytherin, no less – who blows that theory out of the water.” James looked at him blankly. “Andromeda Tonks, née Black.”

“Oh, right.” He’d forgotten that she had been a Slytherin. Which was stupid, in retrospect, since Sirius had been the first Black to not Sort Slytherin in generations. “Still, you have to admit that you not being pureblood is…”

“Slytherin is about 60% halfblood. We get Muggleborns every so often. There’s a larger percentage of purebloods than other houses, granted, and even fewer who have a Muggle rather than Muggleborn parent. Still…”

“One of your parents is a Muggle?”

“My da,” Snape said curtly. “And this is all beside the point-“

“No, it isn’t. So your dad’s a Muggle and showed you Muggle poetry?” Snape snorted.

“My da can’t even read. My mum may have been a witch, but she always said that Muggles came up with better poetry than wizards could ever imagine. My grandfather – me da’s da – died in the Great War. Da would sometimes let Mum read some poetry out loud. Wilfred Owen, Robert Graves, that kind of thing.”

“Dumbledore gave me a book of war poetry when I asked him about that poem you quoted. I don’t quite get poetry, I don’t think.”

“You usually don’t think,” Snape said. “Do you have it with you?” James wordlessly handed the volume over. Even though he hadn’t opened it since that night where he’d tried to understand “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” he had gotten in the habit of carrying it with him, almost in hope of understanding through pure osmosis. “What kind of poem do you want?”

“What?”

“Glory? Futility? Home front? Battle?” When James still looked confused, Snape sighed. “There are different kinds of war poems.”

“Glory. Definitely glory.”

“Ever the perfect Gryffindor,” Snape said contemptuously. He paged through the book, apparently looking for something specific. Finding the right page, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

_With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,_  
_England mourns for her dead across the sea._  
 _Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,_  
 _Fallen in the cause of the free._

_Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal_  
_Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,_  
 _There is music in the midst of desolation_  
 _And a glory that shines upon our tears._

“Just because it has the word ‘glory’ in it doesn’t mean it’s about glory,” James complained.

“Shut up,” Snape said. “If you want someone to boost your ridiculous ego, go to the Headmaster.”

_They went with songs to the battle, they were young,_  
_Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow._  
 _They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;_  
 _They fell with their faces to the foe._

_They shall grow not old…_ Snape trailed off. He was staring at the book, something curiously bright in his eye. “You’re right. This is bullshit.”

“No, keep going. I’m curious now.”

“Read it yourself if you want to. I’m not reading anything this bloody – trite. Look, the last stanza even has a fucking ‘unchanging stars’ thing going on. Besides, this wasn’t written for us.”

“I mean, it might be Muggle, but-“

“That’s not what I meant.” Snape sighed. “Look, Binyon wrote this for people who were left behind in England. He didn’t write it for – for the people fighting. ‘Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn’ might be comforting for someone who just lost a kid or a grandkid or a brother, but I’d rather have the years contemn me, if you don’t mind.”

“Still…” James reached out for the book, and Snape handed it to him. “What kind of poetry do you even like? You just used that other one to try and warn me, and now you’re mocking this one.”

“The hopeless kind.”

“That sounded way too cheerful.” Snape gave a small smile.

“I like them because they’re accurate. Binyon… he takes it seriously, I’ll give him that, but he’s still too convinced that there’s a kind of glory in war. I don’t believe in that.”

“But there is. You choose the right side, and-“

“And what? Look, Potter,” Snape sighed, “there’s right and there’s right, and I don’t think… I don’t know. Maybe war is _necessary_ , but I don’t think it’s _right._ ” His voice dropped lower, as though he was talking to himself now. “Who's for the trench – Are you, my laddie?”

“What?” Snape shook his head as if he could rid himself of his thoughts as easily as a dog of water.

“Nothing,” he said. “Now _there’s_ a poem you won’t find in that book, though if the Headmaster knew about it he’d probably hand out copies to all the Gryffindors. Nothing like a dare to get children to fight for you.”

“Dumbledore’s not like that.”

“Maybe he doesn’t mean to be, but that’s what it looks like from the outside. My da-“ Snape broke off.

“What would he know about Dumbledore? He’s a Muggle. Besides, you’re a Death Eater. Why would you tell him about, well, anything? Aren’t your lot supposed to hate them?”

“Oh, I hate him enough. He’s a right bastard, and I’d be happy to never have to see him again. Still, I had to go back, explain a few things. Apologize, you know?”

“No, I don’t.” Snape shrugged.

“Whatever. He was… better than usual last time I saw him. Been trying to cut down on the drink, found a job painting fences and things. I have no interest in going back again, but at least I can die without having that loose thread hanging around, right?” James bit his lip, looking at the book.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re right.”

* * *

“Why don’t you write Lily?” James said the next time they met. When he’d seen that Snape was working at the apothecary, he’d hung around outside, waiting for the Slytherin to get off his shift. Now they’re in Snape’s flat again, lying on the bed because the spy doesn’t own any chairs.

“What, and get myself killed? I’m not stupid, Potter.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Snape was silent. “Look, if you don’t trust owl post, we could always get our Secret Keeper to give you our location. You could visit.”

“Why on earth would you trust me with your location? If your Secret Keeper dies-“

“Our Secret Keeper is Dumbledore this time. He’s old, but he’s not dying. Besides, even if he did, I doubt that you’d give us over to You-Know-Who.”

“He could break me,” Snape said grimly. “Besides, you don’t even know me, not really. Two chance meetings and you’re ready to give me the key to your life and the lives of your family.”

“I’ve known there was a spy for three years, Snape.” Snape’s breath shuddered, and he closed his eyes. “I trusted the spy. Now that I know it’s you, well, I’ve got to trust you, too.”

“I’ll think about it,” Snape said softly. “I’d like to see Lily again. But I won’t put her – put any of you at risk.” The naked longing in his voice should have made James jealous. James couldn’t have told anyone why it didn’t, except that there was something so hopeless about Snape’s feelings. It was hard to feel threatened when the one doing the threatening wasn’t even sure he’d see your wife again.

And he wanted Snape to see Lily again, James realized with a jolt. Partly because it would make Lily happier, true. She’d been lonely since they had gone under the Fidelus the second time. But also because, well, it would make Snape happy. James wasn’t an idiot, no matter what Snape said. He’d heard the way the Slytherin had been talking about the war, about poetry. Even that story about Snape’s Muggle father had the air of getting his affairs in order.

Snape wasn’t expecting to live much longer, of that James was certain. From the way You-Know-Who dealt with traitors, the spy was probably right. It was the least James could do to make it so that Lily and Snape were able to reconcile for real before… before whatever happened, happened.

* * *

Once he made his decision, James got the slip of paper with their location from Dumbledore as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to put it off and have Snape die on him before seeing Lily again. Still, it was an awkward walk up to the front door of the tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere.

“Are you sure I should be here?” Snape muttered for the fifth time.

“Little too late now,” James said airily. “You’re already in on the Secret. Might as well go all the way.”

“Wouldn’t want to with you,” Snape said, and then he blinked, as though surprised by his own words. James grinned. Not that he _wanted_ the git to be joking about having sex with him, but it was better than the nervousness or the hopelessness that seemed to be Snape’s usual moods.

“Come on,” James said, unlocking the front door. He knocked to tell Lily that they were there, and then he opened the door. “Lily!”

“I’m in the kitchen!” Lily called back. James gave Snape another grin, leading him down the hallway and to the doorway that led to the tiny kitchen.

“Hey, Lils, guess what?” She turned from where she was trying to get Harry to eat his apples and peanut butter. James stepped to the side, leaving Snape in full view. Lily let out a little shriek.

“Sev!” She rushed forward, hugging the Slytherin and almost knocking him over. “Oh my God, Sev, it’s been ages! I’m so happy to see you!”

“It’s – It’s good to see you too, Lily.” Snape’s eyes seemed suspiciously bright as he squeezed her back.

“James, you should have told me that we’d be having company,” Lily said, laughing. Snape just grinned back, though it dimmed slightly when he caught sight of Harry, who was looking at Snape with a perplexed expression.

“So, this is the famous child of the prophecy?” Snape said.

“You know about that?” James said. Snape bit his lip.

“All the Death Eaters do, I think. He has people looking for all of you, though we aren’t to attack you thankfully. Apparently _he’s_ supposed to have that honor.” James felt his stomach drop at the casual way Snape talked about You-Know-Who threatening his family, but he pushed it aside. It was good to know what to watch out for, and this was Snape’s job in the Order anyways.

“Who’re you?” Harry said, pointing at Snape. Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry unsuccessfully tried to copy him.

“My name is Severus,” Snape said to the three-year-old. Harry puckered his lips in concentration.

“Sev’rus,” he said.

“Close enough,” said the Slytherin.

* * *

James was practically bouncing the next time he saw Snape. Not only was he glad to see Snape at all after his conclusion about the spy’s suspected life expectancy, he had been reading through the war poetry book and found the perfect poem to prove the miserable arsehole wrong. Here was something that provided both a realistic view of war yet was about glory. Here was something that Sirius and Snape would both agree was a good war poem. James couldn’t wait. They were in Snape’s Knockturn flat again. At some point in the last few months Snape had obtained a reasonably comfortable armchair, though he still had to sit on the bed.

“Well,” Snape said, “what do you want to talk about this time?” James grinned in excitement, and Snape raised an eyebrow dubiously.

“I found a poem,” James said. “It’s one that I don’t think even you could find fault with.”

“It’s not that I don’t like poetry,” Snape protested. “I just – don’t like the stupid propaganda.”

“Yeah, yeah,” James said, irritated. “Just listen to it.” Snape gestured for James to start reading, lying down on the bed and closing his eyes. James cleared his throat.

_The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes_  
_Till beauty shines in all that we can see._  
 _War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,_  
 _And, fighting for our freedom, we are free._

James paused, checking to see Snape’s reaction. The Slytherin’s lips were pursed and a trench was dug between his eyebrows, but he hadn’t interjected yet. James could only take that as a good sign.

_Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,_  
_And loss of things desired; all these must pass._  
 _We are the happy legion, for we know_  
 _Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass._

Snape let out a soft snort, but other than that he remained silent and motionless. That word, “time,” had been one of the spy’s sticking points last time, too, James remembered. It was frightening to see how aware Snape was of his own mortality. Perhaps James should have that same death-sense, but for whatever reason he didn’t. Death was something that happened to Death Eaters and Muggles. Maybe that was it, James thought. Snape was half both.

_There was an hour when we were loth to part_  
_From life we longed to share no less than others._  
 _Now, having claimed this heritage of heart,_  
 _What need we more, my comrades and my brothers?_

James looked up from the book to find Snape staring at him. He closed it, still swelled with the courage and glory of that last stanza.

“Well? What did you think?” he said. Snape blinked slowly, thinking for a moment.

“What was it called?” he asked.

“Hold on,” James said, paging through the book. “Um, ‘Absolution.’ It’s by Siegfried Sassoon.”

“Absolution,” Snape said with a sneer, “is the perfect title for that little bit of pompous fluff.” James almost dropped the book in shock.

“What? I thought you’d like it!”

“Why the hell would I like _that_?”

“Well, it’s – it’s got the whole ‘horrors of war’ thing that you like-“

“Just because it’s got the word ‘horror’ in it doesn’t mean it’s about horror,” Snape parroted mockingly. James opened his mouth to argue, but Snape shut him up with a glare. “No, I fucking refuse to listen to this kind of shit.”

“What do you mean?” James said.

“I mean,” Snape took a breath, gathering together his thoughts, “I mean I don’t want to hear about a good death, a happy death. I don’t want to be someone’s cannon fodder. And, yeah, I know that’s what I am. But when Sassoon talks about ‘the life we longed to share no less than others,’ I want him to fucking mean it. I won’t let the Sinister Spirit have the last say.”

“The Sinister Spirit?” Snape nodded and launched into an unfamiliar stanza.

_Calm fell. From Heaven distilled a clemency;_  
_There was peace on earth, and silence in the sky;_  
 _Some could, some could not, shake off misery:_  
 _The Sinister Spirit sneered: 'It had to be!'_  
 _And again the Spirit of Pity whispered, 'Why?'_

“Whose poem was that?” James asked.

“Thomas Hardy. Post-war, but still…” Snape heaved a sigh. “Our generation didn’t have a chance. The war was already going to be a thing back when we were eleven. Battle lines were being drawn at thirteen. Slytherin, Gryffindor, doesn’t matter – none of us had a choice. If we had been born a decade either way, well…”

“But that’s just it. This is our chance to do the right thing, to be wise, to be free.”

“What’s freedom without a choice on whether to fight?”

“You choose what side you’re on!” Snape rolled his eyes.

“Potter, if the Dark Lord hadn’t decided to start targeting Lily, I would still be a loyal Death Eater.” James’ stomach clenched.

“What?” he said. “Why? You-Know-Who’s evil, even _you_ must know that. Why would you-“

“Because I’d never been given a reason not to?”

“You shouldn’t need a _reason_ to not become a genocidal murderer,” James snapped.

“Maybe you’re right,” Snape said with a shrug. “Maybe I’m a terrible person. But I was at Hogwarts for seven years, same as you, and I learned damn well that I couldn’t depend on your lot, _Dumbledore’s_ lot, for anything. Why shouldn’t I have stuck with the side that actually seemed to give a shit about me?”

“Um, because they’re evil?” James suggested.

“Your best friend tried to kill me with a werewolf. How dare you tell me what’s evil?” Snape didn’t even sound angry. Maybe if he had it would have been easier for James to hear. At least then he could have dismissed the words as overemotional exaggeration. But Snape sounded resigned and exhausted, nothing like the greasy arsehole who was always so fun to rile up.

“He didn’t mean to kill you. Just – Just scare you a bit.”

“And I didn’t mean to join a group of blood supremacists; I only meant to get some kind of power and agency when everyone on your side had written me off from the beginning. That doesn’t make it any better, though, does it?”

“You – That’s completely different!”

“Maybe. Doesn’t matter. _He_ started targeting Lily, and I went to Dumbledore to warn him. In exchange, I promised him anything.”

“Anything? Seriously?” James felt a little sick. He couldn’t imagine putting that much power over himself into anyone’s hands, even Dumbledore’s capable ones. Snape just nodded.

“I must admit, the Headmaster was as good as his word when it came to your family’s protection.” James stared at Snape, speechless, and the Slytherin gave him an odd look. “I won’t pretend to be altruistic. I turned coat because my best friend was in danger. I do what I can to make people not die because I couldn’t look Lily in the eye otherwise. I’m nothing like you.”

“Yeah,” James said, “but at this point, with all the good you’ve done, I don’t think there’s really much of a difference.”

“James Potter is viewing the world in something other than black and white? I’m shocked.” James snorted out a laugh.

“You know what?” he said. “So am I.”

* * *

James would never stop being amazed at how well Snape and Harry got along. Under other circumstances he might have been angry, especially with how much Lily encouraged them. As it was, it did too much good for both of them for James to even think about getting in the way. Harry was happy and getting some interaction outside of James, Lily, and Sirius. Snape was… not softening, really. He was as stubborn and pessimistic as ever. But when he was with Harry, he seemed willing to uncoil, to lose that razor edge that cut friend and foe alike. Not to mention that, due to the Fidelus, Snape had to feel more secure in James and Lily’s cottage than in his flat.

That was why James allowed it. No, not just allowed, he encouraged it, he could admit that to himself. Besides, the more honorary uncles Harry had, the better. James was slowly beginning to realize that whatever virtue had protected him thus far, luck or bravery or skill or whatever, might not hold forever. In fact, it was more than likely that it wouldn’t.

So, when James entered the cottage one wrong move from a panic attack, he almost expected Snape to be there, sitting on the floor and entertaining Harry. Hell, the fact that Snape was there was all that was keeping him from falling apart completely.

“James!” Lily said. She hugged him, but he couldn’t move. “James, what’s wrong?” He looked over her shoulder at the Slytherin sitting on his living room floor.

“They got Sirius,” he said. Snape’s face became completely blank.

“Dead or…” James shook his head.

“Captured. I don’t – I don’t know-“

“Sirius is strong, James. He’ll be alright until you rescue him.” Snape closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, but he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t say that, Lils. You know what they do to the people they capture. Sirius doesn’t stand a chance, not against that.”

“James…” Snape stood abruptly.

“I’ll do it,” he said as though coming to a decision. “I’ll – I’ll find out where he is.”

“Snape, you don’t have to,” James said. “It isn’t worth the risk.”

“I know what I can do and what I can’t, Potter,” Snape said. “And trust me, it is worth the risk.” James shook his head, but he didn’t argue further. Even though he knew it was hopeless, he couldn’t let go of the possibility that Snape might be able to do the impossible.

* * *

It was late at night a few days later when Snape returned to the cottage. Lily was asleep, but James shook her awake when he heard the knock on the door. He knew that she would want to be there to hear what Snape had to say.

The spy looked exhausted as he slumped in front of the fire. James and Lily sat on the sofa across from him, silent, waiting for Snape to make the first move. Under other circumstances, James might have begun pressing him for answers, but even he could tell that it wouldn’t do any good. He had asked Snape to do him a huge, life-threatening favor. The least he could do was allow the spy to report in his own time.

“I know where he’s being held,” Snape said at last. James let out a sound that was half sob, half sigh of relief. “I don’t know what condition he’ll be in, but I’ve got an in to see him. If it’s possible, I’ll do my best to bring him back here.”

“Thank you,” James said. “Oh, Merlin, thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Snape said. “I’ve seen the results of torture. He might be completely crazy by the time I get to him. He’ll be affected – probably for the rest of his life. You won’t be getting your best friend back.”

“I don’t care,” James said. “And I’m going to thank you _now_. I know – I know what you risked just asking about him. I know that, quite frankly, you have no reason to help him.” Snape just shook his head. “Snape, you’re probably the last person who should be risking his life like this. You’re the best spy the Order’s got, and you know that. How many people have you saved anyways?”

“Lately, only those I can.”

“That’s better than half the people in the Order.” Lily and Snape both stared at him, and James shrugged. “We prioritize. We’re ordered to stay behind. We focus on killing Death Eaters and saving Order members.”

“So?” Snape said. James looked him in the eye.

“So, you do better than we do. You do what you can.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to save Black.”

“But I know, even if you don’t, that you honestly tried. That’s more than I can say for Sirius and myself.” Snape closed his eyes and swallowed thickly.

“I’ll do what I can, Potter,” he said again, stronger this time.

“That’s all James is asking, Sev,” Lily said. “That’s all anyone can ask.” She paused. “Stay here the night. Please. If what James has told me is true, the sofa’s probably more comfortable than your mattress.”

“You sure it’s alright?” Snape said. He already sounded half asleep.

“Of course,” Lily said.

“Then – Then I’ll stay, I think,” Snape murmured. It took only ten minutes more for him to fall asleep in the armchair. Lily led James to their bedroom before glaring at him.

“Why would you say that?” she said.

“Say what?” James asked.

“That he does better than you and Sirius. You’re his friend; you _know_ what that will do to him.”

“Snape and I aren’t friends!” Lily raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe we are, kind of. But I don’t see why you’re so upset. I only told him the truth.”

“He was trying to let you down gently,” Lily said. “He was basically saying that there was no way for him to get Sirius out. But now – I heard the way he said that he’d do what he could. He’s going to try, James. He’s going to risk it in a way he wouldn’t have done if you’d just kept your mouth shut.”

“But I wouldn’t-“

“It’s Sirius, James. Yes, you would. In fact, you did.” James shook his head helplessly. He wanted Sirius back, but he wanted Snape to be safe, too. And if Snape did something stupid and both of them died…

“What should I do, Lils?” he said. Lily glanced back at the door.

“You talk to him tomorrow morning,” she said. “He’s asleep now, and quite frankly he needs all the rest he can get. But you do have to talk to him.” She softened slightly. “I know you didn’t mean for him to take it that way. God knows you were just saying the truth. But Sev would do anything if he thought his friends expected it of him, and like it or not he counts you as one of them.”

“I’ll do it,” James said quickly. “I’ll fix this, Lily. Trust me.”

* * *

“God damn it, Sev!” James came running to find Lily, pale and furious, in front of the empty armchair. For a moment James felt like he was going to throw up. Snape was gone.

“Lily, he’s a spy. He – He might’ve just been called by You-Know-Who. He’ll be okay.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” James nodded helplessly.

“I know,” he said. He looked back at the armchair and saw a folded sheet of paper on it. He picked it up. It had obviously been torn from that poetry book of Dumbledore’s; it was the same brittle, yellowing paper. He unfolded the paper slowly, hoping that it wasn’t what he suspected it to be. He saw the delicate handwriting on the top first.

_James,_ (it said) _Here’s something that ought to be equal to your outrageously Gryffindor ideas of war._

A poem. It was another damn poem. Knowing Snape, it wasn’t even the kind that the Slytherin liked. Still, James had to read it. He owed Snape that much.

_If we must die, let it not be like hogs_   
_Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,_   
_While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,_   
_Making their mock at our accursèd lot._   
_If we must die, O let us nobly die,_   
_So that our precious blood may not be shed_   
_In vain; then even the monsters we defy_   
_Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!_   
_O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!_   
_Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,_   
_And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!_   
_What though before us lies the open grave?_   
_Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,_   
_Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!_

James wanted to throw the poem into the fire. Snape was right. This was the Gryffindor ideal, and this was also bullshit. This wasn’t the war. Sirius was being tortured. Sirius might be dead. And Snape was going to go the same way, because James had said the wrong thing at the wrong time. James stared at the paper blankly, and then his eyes were drawn to the bottom corner. There were words written there, as though an afterthought:

_The Garden called Gethsemane, in Picardy it was_

James took a deep breath. This was the real Snape, he thought. The idiot had been trying to appeal to his Gryffindor courage with the poem, but this short line was the Slytherin side of the world. Maybe that meant that Snape would keep him cover if it was really hopeless. Maybe there was still hope.

James didn’t want to look up whatever poem Snape’s handwritten words had referenced. He wanted to hold onto the idea that they were hopeful instead of the hopelessness of the Gryffindor poem.

* * *

Three hours later, the Floo flared to life. James jumped up when he saw the face in the fire.

“Dumbledore!” he said. His mentor smiled sadly.

“You’d better come through, James,” he said. James nodded. He stepped through the Floo to find himself in a makeshift infirmary. Sirius was on the bed, brutalized but alive. James’ legs felt weak with relief.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he breathed. “Is – Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Dumbledore said, but there was still that seriousness behind his words. James looked up at him.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he said. Dumbledore closed his eyes. James had the strange idea that the older man was trying to keep from crying.

“This was left with him,” Dumbledore said. “It was addressed to you, but I recognize the handwriting.” Dumbledore held onto the paper for a moment before releasing it to James. “I don’t know what’s been going on or for how long, but I am sorry.” James unfolded the paper and read it, heart pounding and eyes prickling.

_It didn’t pass—it didn’t pass-_  
_It didn’t pass from me._  
 _I drank it when we met the gas_  
 _Beyond Gethsemane!_

**Author's Note:**

> Links to all the poems quoted in this fic:  
> Title is from ["Break, Break, Break" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45318/break-break-break)  
> [“Charge of the Light Brigade” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45319/the-charge-of-the-light-brigade%20)  
> [“For the Fallen” by Laurence Binyon](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57322/for-the-fallen)  
> [“The Call” by Jessie Pope](https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-call-46/)  
> [“Absolution” by Siegfried Sassoon](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57212/absolution)  
> [“And There Was A Great Calm” by Thomas Hardy](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57336/and-there-was-a-great-calm)  
> [“If We Must Die” by Claude McKay](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44694/if-we-must-die)  
> [“Gethsemane” by Rudyard Kipling](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46776/gethsemane)


End file.
